The investigators boh-7, page 29
part #7 of Badge of Honor Series
"Probably the waiter. When I checked in, I told them to cool a couple of bottles." He raised his voice. "Just a moment, please, I'm in the shower."
He let go of her wrist and got out of bed.
"Is there another one of those in there?" he asked, making reference to the hotel's terry-cloth robe and gesturing toward the bathroom.
"I only saw this one," Susan said.
"Then you better give me that one," Matt said. "And wait in the bathroom. Or get under the blankets."
She looked at him doubtfully, then looked around for her discarded clothing.
"Where're my clothes?"
"I kicked them under the bed," he said matter-of-factly, then smiled and went on. "Come on, give me the robe. The cow already got out of the barn. I know what you've got hidden under there."
She turned her back on him, unfastened the robe, and, aware that she was blushing again, shrugged out of it and ran to the bathroom.
"What do you want to eat?"
"What do I want to eat?" she parroted incredulously. "Eat?"
"They do a nice standing rib," he said. "Okay?"
"I just don't give a damn," she confessed, and closed the bathroom door.
Feeling dizzy and a little faint, but no longer nauseous, Susan leaned against the closed bathroom door. This gave her a view of herself in the mirrors over the sink.
For a moment, she seriously considered that she might be having a bad dream. That was obviously not the case.
But I can't believe any of this is happening! Either what happened in the car, or that I came to the room, or what happened here. Anything that happened here, from letting him undress me through what happened after he did, to that clever little unbelievable line, "The cops are onto you, fair maiden."
She was vaguely conscious of hearing him order dinner-New England-style clam chowder, not the kind with tomatoes, medium-rare beef, baked potatoes, asparagus, and a large pot of coffee-and couldn't believe that, either.
How the hell can he even think of food at a time like this?
And then he was trying to push the bathroom door open against the weight of her body.
"Hey, you all right, Susan?" he asked, and there was concern in his voice.
"What do you want?"
"I thought you might want the robe back."
"Just a minute," she said, and pushed herself off the door and went after a towel.
Before she reached it, he had pushed the door open. Susan tried to cover herself modestly with her hands.
"Ta-ta!" Matt cried. "The Mad Flasher strikes again!"
Using both hands, he pulled the bathrobe open wide.
Under it, his private parts were now concealed by his shorts.
"You're insane," she said, but she smiled and reached for the robe as he shrugged out of it.
"Your maidenly modesty is really a waste of effort, you know. I have seen what I have seen, and it is burned indelibly for all eternity on my brain."
"You really are insane, aren't you?" Susan said.
Why am I pleased that he liked what he saw? And for that matter, why am I not really all that embarrassed about him seeing me naked?
Matt went back into the bedroom, and as she fastened the robe around her, she saw him going into the sitting room. She combed her hair as best she could, then went into the bedroom.
Where she found that he had indeed kicked her clothing under the bed. The first thing she retrieved was her brassiere.
And saw he had torn it off: the buttonhole on the strap between the cups was ripped open.
She found her underpants and pulled them on under the terry-cloth robe and went into the sitting room.
He was pouring champagne. He picked up both glasses and held one out to her.
"I'm not sure I want this," she said.
"What shall we drink to?" he asked, ignoring her.
"What is there to celebrate?"
"Us, maybe? Or am I really alone in thinking that something really special happened to both of us in the last twenty-four hours?"
"Matt, I'm afraid to believe you about… what you said," she said.
"I told you I think I love you after I told you that bullshit time is over," he said. "You can believe that."
"I don't know what happened to me," Susan said.
"The question is was it special for you? Half as special, maybe, as it was for me?"
"What do you think?" she asked softly.
"I don't know what to think. That's why I asked."
"The last time somebody put his hands in my pants in a car was when I was in high school. I hit him with a flashlight and knocked out two of his teeth."
"Is that a yes?"
"I came up here with you, didn't I? And you know what happened."
"In that case, we have just taken step one," Matt said. "Which I think we should commemorate with a swallow of the bubbly, and, if you're so inclined, with a friendly kiss."
"A friendly kiss?"
"Boy Scout's honor," he said, and stepped close to her.
She looked into his eyes for a long moment, then kissed him, very chastely, on the lips.
That was and that wasn't. It was closed-mouthed and gentle, but I felt it all the way down to my crotch.
If he kisses me again, or puts his hand inside the bathrobe, we'll be back in the sack again.
Matt touched his glass to hers.
"Well, at least we have our priorities right. First the kiss, and then the champagne."
"And now what?" Susan asked.
"We wait for dinner to be delivered," he said. "And meanwhile, we try to start to find some kind of a solution to our dilemma."
"And how do we do that?"
"You start by trusting me," he said, looking into her eyes. "You really don't have any choice, but I want you to really understand that."
She averted her eyes by lowering them.
"Are you constantly in that state?" she blurted.
"I just kissed you," he said. "And it happened." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that. Ah-ten-hut! And then, feeling noble as hell, I resisted the enormous urge to pick you up and carry you back to bed."
"That wouldn't be smart, would it?" Susan asked, raising her eyes from his erection to his eyes.
"Not right now, but you could easily talk me out of that position."
"Maybe that's all it is," she said. "Unbridled lust. On both sides."
"Maybe," he said very seriously. "I think there's more, but if that's all there is, that's enough."
"I don't really know what you mean by trust you," she said.
"Well, that means I'm going to ask you questions, and you're going to answer them. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. You're not going to hold anything back. You've just changed sides, Susan. Chenowith and his friends are now the bad guys."
"I'm not sure I can do that," she said very softly.
"You don't have any choice, honey. What I'm trying to do is find some way to keep you from going down the toilet with them."
"What did you call me?"
"What?"
"You called me 'honey.' "
"I guess I did," Matt said. "Does that bother you?"
"No," she said after a just-perceptible hesitation. "No, Matt, it doesn't."
"I would be amenable to reciprocation," he said.
"Does 'precious beloved' come easily to your lips?"
"No," she said, smiling. " 'Precious beloved'? My God!"
"There are many other possibilities," he said. "Think it over. Whatever makes you happy."
"All I can think of is 'honey,' " she said. "And that's awkward."
"Give it a shot."
"Honey," she said.
"Sounds great to me," he said. "Let's go with that for a while, until you think of something better."
She sensed that he was about to kiss her again, and turned her back to him.
"Matt, I can't betray them," she said.
"What happened to 'honey'?" he asked lightly, and then, his voice changing, added: "Get it through your head, honey, that they're going to jail. If they're lucky, the feds will let Pennsylvania try them. We don't often send people to the chair."
" 'We' don't?"
"We, the citizens of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, " he said, rather unpleasantly. "Okay, first question. Did you have any prior knowledge that Chenowith was going to blow up the Biological Sciences building at the University of Pennsylvania?"
Susan shook her head and said, softly, "No."
"No knowledge of any kind? He-and when I say 'he,' read Chenowith, the scumbag with the acne, and either of the women. Or any friends we don't know about-never discussed this with you, even in idle conversation, with a couple of drinks in him? 'What we should do is blow up the building'?"
"I told you no, Matt," she said, then added, "God, you sound like a policeman."
"I am a policeman," he said. "I have to be absolutely sure of this, honey. Let me ask it in another way. When they blew up the Biological Sciences building, were you surprised, or did you sort of expect something like that to happen?"
"Matt, would you believe me if I said I'm sick about the Biological Sciences building? I was sick then, and I'm sick now."
He looked at her carefully, and she realized he was making up his mind whether or not to believe her. And then she saw in his eyes that he did.
"That wasn't the question, honey. The question was, did the bombing of the Biological Sciences building come to you as a surprise, or not?"
"I really didn't even know Bryan Chenowith when that happened," she said.
"Then how the hell did you get involved with these people? Has he got something on you?"
"Now he does," she said.
"What?"
"I know what he did, and that the police are looking for him. Isn't that what you said-I'm an accessory after the fact, for helping him?"
"What's he got on you?"
"That I've been helping him."
"Why have you been helping him?" Matt asked impatiently.
"Room service!" a cheery voice announced, and there was a knock on the door.
"Just a minute," Matt called.
He gestured for her to give him the robe again. When she did, he saw that she was wearing underpants.
"What did I do? Shame you back into maidenly modesty? " he asked.
"Don't you ever shut your mouth?" she snapped.
"Go hide in the bathroom like a good girl," he said, stuffing his arms into the sleeves of the robe.
She went into the bathroom and closed the door, and listened while he dealt with the waiter, and to the sound of furniture moving, and metallic clanks she presumed were the plate and dish covers that come with room-service meals. But when the noise died down, he didn't come to the bathroom door. She wondered if the waiter was still there, or if there was some other reason.
Curiosity finally got the best of her. She opened the bathroom door carefully and walked quickly to the door to the sitting room.
Matt was sitting at the table, wearing the terry-cloth robe, putting an oyster on a cracker.
"Pity you don't like oysters. These are first-rate," he said.
"I've been waiting for my robe," she said indignantly, walking across the room to him, concealing as much of her breasts as she could with her arms.
"Our robe," Matt corrected her. "And you were standing behind the door, right, so that you could put your hand-only-through the door and snatch it from my hand so that I wouldn't get to see anything?"
"Give me the damned robe," she said, tugging at the neck of it.
He got out of the chair, shrugged out of the robe, and held it out so that she could put her arms in the sleeves.
"I cannot tell a lie," he said. "I'm glad I did that. You wearing nothing but your underpants and a look of high indignation is truly a sight to see."
"What are you?" she said, furious with herself for blushing. "Some kind of a pervert?"
"No. I don't think so. I'm in love. Or maybe lust. Or both. I think 'all's fair in lust and war' is also true."
She shook her head and then, robe modestly belted, looked at him.
"That can't possibly be true," she said.
"What can't?"
"Love."
"Why not? You hear about it all the time. Love at first sight, and they lived happily thereafter."
"That's the… bullshit… you keep talking about. Things like that just don't happen."
"Well, I think it happened to me. With my luck, it probably won't be reciprocal, but I'm willing to settle for half a loaf."
She looked at him with a strange look on her face.
"I'll be damned if I don't think you're serious."
"I have never been more serious in my life," Matt said.
Susan suddenly had a very strong urge to cry.
"Can I have one of your oysters?" she asked, her voice sounding strange.
"I thought you didn't like oysters?"
"I was being a bitch. You bring that out in me."
He turned to the table and picked up an oyster in its shell and handed it to her.
She ate it from the shell.
"Very good," she said.
"I told you. Shall I get you a dozen? I ate most of-"
"There won't be time," she said.
"Why not?"
"This one's already working," she said.
"Meaning what?" he said, and then took her meaning. "Oh, really?"
She raised her eyes to his and nodded solemnly. He unfastened the belt on the robe and she shrugged out of it.
"You want to go out there?" Matt asked. "Or should I try to roll that cart in here?"
"You weren't thinking of food two minutes ago."
"That was two minutes ago."
"Since we have only one bathrobe between us, I don't think I want to go out there. I've had enough new experiences for one night. Eating dinner in the nude will have to wait for another time."
"In other words, roll in the tray?"
"I'm not all that hungry. Why don't you just bring in one plate, and we'll share it?"
"Okay. I'll get a plate. I'm delighted you didn't think of the other option: getting out of bed and getting dressed."
"I wish that I could spend the rest of my life in this bed," she said.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really."
He got out of bed and went into the sitting room. And returned pushing the cart. Susan raised her eyebrows questioningly.
"I wanted to bring the champagne, too," he said. "And there's two oysters left. I didn't want them to be wasted."
She felt herself blush again.
"We can't spend the rest of our life in this bed," she said.
"Not this one. Maybe in another one," he said.
He handed her a napkin, silverware, and a plate of roast beef. Then he poured champagne in a glass and got in bed with her, sitting cross-legged across from her.
"While you're cutting me a piece of that," he said, "and while I'm chewing it, tell me how in the hell you got involved with these people."
Susan exhaled audibly, looked at Matt, then dropped her eyes to the slab of pink roast beef on the plate between her legs and started cutting it.
"Jennie-" she began.
"Jennifer Downs Ollwood," Matt interrupted. "Five feet four inches, 130 pounds, brown eyes, black hair worn in bangs, got herself kicked out of Bennington for taking free speech a step too far by assaulting a campus police officer, then transferred to the University of Pittsburgh. What about her?"
"You seem to know everything about her."
"Come on, honey. I'm just trying to save time. We still have to take you home to Mommy and Daddy sometime tonight."
"Until you said that," Susan said, "I completely forgot about having to go home. What time is it?"
He looked at his watch.
"Half past ten."
"It seems like much later," she said.
"Well, didn't you notice? A lot's happened tonight."
"We're going to have to go soon."
"Not until we're finished," he said, and then smiled. "I already have a reputation for keeping the Reynolds family virgin out all night. Mommy would probably be surprised, even disappointed, if I brought you home early."
"I guess that means I don't get arrested tonight, if you're going to take me home," Susan said, making what she instantly realized was a bad little joke.
"Not by me. Not ever by me," Matt said seriously. "But I can't speak for the rest of the law-enforcement community."
"Matt, I'm scared."
"Well, you should be. What about the Ollwood woman? Did she meet Chenowith at the University of Pittsburgh? Or were they already planning armed revolution and rebellion at Bennington?"
"I don't know where she met him," Susan said. "But you have to understand about Jennie, Matt."
"What do I have to understand?"
"She is no more capable of blowing up a building than I am."
"The fact is that she did. There's no question about that, honey."
"You have to understand her."
"Understand what, Susan?"
"Her family is a disaster," Susan said. "Her mother's a drunk, on her fourth husband. Her father doesn't give a damn about her. She's all alone, Matt, and always has been. Until, of course, Bryan came along. Whatever she did was because of Bryan."
"That's bullshit, honey," Matt said gently. "She might have been strongly attracted to this character, that's understandable. But once she found out that he was seriously considering doing something like blowing up a building-there's a hell of a difference between hitting a campus cop with your 'Fair Play For Animals!' sign and robbing a National Guard armory to get explosives and weapons-"
"You know about that?" Susan interrupted.
"We even know the serial numbers of the carbines they stole. And that your friend Chenowith-"
"He's not my friend, Matt!"
"— has chopped down one of them into a movie-style terrorist's machine pistol to use when he robs banks."
"Well, that answered another question I had. You know about the banks."
"Yeah, we know about the banks. And it's only a question of time before Robin Hood decides he has to use that machine pistol, and other innocent people get killed."
She met his eyes and then looked away.
"You want to hear about Jennie?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," Matt said. "I do. I left off saying that she had a choice to make when she understood that he was about to do some very terrible things, and she made the wrong one. I can't work up much sympathy for your friend, honey, drunken mother on her fourth husband or not."
